A couple of weekends ago, I gave myself permission to grieve.
I always felt grief was a process reserved for when we lost a loved one. It wasn't until recently, through my work of studying complex trauma, that I have come to understand that life can be, and often is, a continual process of grieving. We grieve the loss of relationships, opportunities, and jobs. We might mourn our mistakes, how we showed up, and how situations unfolded. We can also lament our childhoods and the moments of trauma where we experienced emotional neglect and abandonment.
Grief is a ritual to remain present with what is as opposed to bypassing to where we feel like we should be.
When my mistakes led to the loss (specifically referencing opportunities, relationships, or jobs), I felt that I didn’t deserve to grieve. Or worse, I masked my shame as grief, and my period of mourning was really about self-blame and self-judgment. What I denied myself by never allowing space for my grieving was to feel; to feel anger, to feel sadness, and eventually arrive at a place of acceptance.
So this weekend, I grieved and released. I played music on the side of a mountain, explored readings about our shadow and letting go, and had a little conversation with Spiritah about the nature of my world.